“What…”
“We were misled,” Qi Xia said. “At first, when I saw our own ‘characters,’ I assumed the opponent’s ‘characters’ would follow the rules of chess. But the designer of this game is ‘Qinglong.’ He wouldn’t let us breeze through it comfortably, so even if he altered the characters, it’s within reason.”
Qi Xia stared at the wall covered in “characters,” his expression grim.
“Unfortunately, by the time I figured this out, the fight between Fist and Zhang Shan had already reached its final stage.”
By then, there was no way to stop the two of them.
“But doesn’t this feel like a loss…?” Zhang Chenze said. “Even though we got the ‘character,’ Qiao Jiajin can’t even stand anymore…”
“Not a loss,” Qi Xia turned to look at Qiao Jiajin. “If Fist hadn’t held off Zhang Shan, how many of us do you think could have stood against him?”
“…”
“Zhang Shan would’ve just walked straight through with all his people. We wouldn’t have triggered the ‘game,’ nor could we have resisted the assault. We’d have lost in under a minute.”
Zhang Chenze knew Qi Xia was right, but she still felt the fight had been unfair.
A simple “Guard” had nearly cost two lives.
But she also knew where the blame truly lay—not with their opponents, but with the one who designed this game, or perhaps the one who designed the entire “Land of the End.”
…
Han Yimo had been stuck in this bizarre place for a while now.
A simple “Human Pig” game.
Coin toss.
The ugly wild boar would toss the coin high into the air, then catch it between his hands. Han Yimo and Wen Qiaoyun each held three cards:
“Flip Card,” “Re-toss Card,” and “Swap Card.”
In this game, both of them could guess “heads” or “tails” simultaneously. A correct guess earned a point, and the first to seven points would win.
But Han Yimo had already lost five rounds in a row.
Five.
In a row.
How was that even possible?
Statistically, they each had a fifty percent chance of guessing right, but his luck seemed abysmal. No matter what, he couldn’t score a single point against that damned boar.
In the third round, Wen Qiaoyun used a “Flip Card” after placing her bet, forcing the boar’s coin to reverse its outcome—turning what should have been Han Yimo’s win into a loss.
Right then, Han Yimo decided: Fine. From now on, he’d just mirror Wen Qiaoyun’s guesses. If she picked “heads,” he’d pick “heads.” If she picked “tails,” he’d pick “tails.”
Fourth round: Both guessed wrong.
Fifth round: He followed her guess again, only for her to immediately play a “Swap Card,” switching her bet from “heads” to “tails” before the coin was revealed.
Han Yimo hesitated, worried she’d lead him to another loss, so he saved his cards—and lost again.
Now, Wen Qiaoyun only had one card left: “Re-toss Card.”
Han Yimo never expected someone to use strategy in a luck-based game. The score gap was already wide, and even if he matched her guesses perfectly from now on, he’d still lose.
“I… I need a break…” Han Yimo stammered, trembling. “I really can’t do this anymore… I need to pause… I feel like I’m going to lose…”
“B-break…?” The boar blinked, looking nervous. “No way… There’s no ‘break’ here. Just hurry up and place your bet so you can lose already. Don’t waste my time!”
“N-no… I really can’t…” Han Yimo insisted. “This place is too dark… I’m scared… I—I have claustrophobia…”
“Dark?” The boar glanced up at the still-lit bulb he’d just hung. “Damn it, what kind of excuse is that?! Just bet already! If something goes wrong, I’ll die too!”
“No, no, no…” Han Yimo waved his hands frantically. “I’m really sorry… Just let me rest for a bit… I need to catch my breath…”
“It’s fine,” Wen Qiaoyun said. “I’ll allow a break. You can rest.”
Han Yimo immediately turned to the boar: “See?! Even my opponent agrees!”
The boar looked at Wen Qiaoyun, knowing she was sharp—she’d already figured out the game, and winning was only a matter of time. He sighed, shook his head, and turned away.
“Qiaoyun-jie…” Han Yimo called. “Let me just… compose myself… I need to talk to you…”
“Oh?” Wen Qiaoyun raised an eyebrow. “Here?”
“Yeah…” Han Yimo swallowed, steadying his breath. “I’m really bad at games… so can we make a deal…?”
“Go on,” Wen Qiaoyun replied flatly.
“Could you… lose to me on purpose this round? Just so I have something to show for it when I get out…”
Wen Qiaoyun looked at him as if he’d suggested something utterly absurd, momentarily speechless.
“You might not know this… Qiaoyun-jie, but I’m actually on your side.” Han Yimo pinched his thigh hard as he spoke.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that his current state was unbecoming of a “protagonist.” He was scared. Trembling.
Not only was he acting as a mole in Qi Xia’s team, plotting to take down a monster like Qi Xia, but he was also facing off one-on-one against the legendary strategist Wen Qiaoyun in a “Zodiac Game.”
Before the game started, Dr. Zhao had warned him: Wen Qiaoyun was terrifyingly sharp—maybe not quite on Qi Xia’s level, but definitely not inferior to Chu Tianqiu.
So right now, he was terrified. His legs wouldn’t stop shaking.
No—in his own words, he was trembling like a side character.
“Our side?” Wen Qiaoyun asked calmly. “What do you mean?”
“I-I’m a mole!” Han Yimo blurted. “Before the game started, Dr. Zhao and I made a deal—we’re allies! I’m here to dismantle Qi Xia from the inside!”
Wen Qiaoyun paused, then said, “So does Qi Xia trust you? Why do you think you can dismantle him?”
“H-how could he not trust me? We came from the same room! And I have a ‘character’—a really important one!”
Han Yimo pulled out a “Horse.”
A “Horse.” How was that important?
Wen Qiaoyun sighed. “You might not realize this, but even the ‘Dr. Zhao’ you allied with can’t guarantee his own loyalty right now.”
“Huh…?” Han Yimo blinked. “No way… Did Old Zhao betray us?”
“I don’t know him well enough,” Wen Qiaoyun said. “So I can’t be sure. But I’ve seen him exchanging glances with that Chen Junan, so we can’t fully trust him.”
Han Yimo’s face fell. He’d sworn allegiance to Dr. Zhao, but if Dr. Zhao had really switched sides…
Then whose side was *he* on?
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